Oliver's Lament
by Opaque Opal
Summary: After the fateful Quidditch match where Harry falls off his broom, Oliver can't help but be sad. This is his reflection of the match while he takes a shower after the game. Oneshot. No slash, pairings, or Sues. Not too angsty. Rated T for nudity.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, but as we all well know if I did I'd be in an Olympic sized pool filled with money.

**A/N: Well, this is my second attempt at a HP fanfic ((the first one being a blatant Sue, which I deleted)). For those wondering how this came about my friend LazyChestnut was sad about how Oliver Wood was cut out of the third HP film due to time constraints. And she mentioned something about Oliver being in grief in the shower after the match and how they should've shown it. And so, without further ado, here you go!**

_Dedicated to LazyChestnut, one of my favorite authors and BFFS _

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"They won fair and square, even Wood admits it," said George.

"Where is Wood?" said Harry, suddenly realizing he wasn't there.

"Still in the showers," said Fred. "We think he's trying to drown himself."

-Ch. 9, pg. 180, Prisoner of Azkaban

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The Gryffindor Quidditch Team started to file out of the locker room and into the driving rain. However, one member was starting to take off his muddy boots.

"Are you coming with us to the hospital wing, Oliver?" Fred asked, "We reckon Harry's up there by now."

"Not right now. Maybe later though," Oliver said simply.

"Suit yourself," Fred shrugged, clapping Oliver's shoulder before taking off into the dangerous storm. As soon as the door shut, the Quidditch Captain hung his head in his hands. He couldn't believe that they had lost. For the past few years, the Gryffindor Quidditch Team had been the one of the best teams Hogwarts had over the years. But alas, luck was not on their side. The first year Harry joined the team, he had been unconscious in the hospital wing when they had the final match of the season. And last year, their final match had been canceled due to the attacks on Muggle born students. And now, they had finally lost a Quidditch match. Shivering from the cold and his own sadness, Wood grabbed a towel and began to remove his wet Quidditch robes. Letting them fall on a floor in a soggy lump, he shuffled his way to the showers. Stepping barefoot onto the tiled floor, he turned it on.

He sighed with content as the steaming hot water began to cascade down his muscular nude body. However, the droplets seemed to tinkle out quite slow. Finding the valve that increased the water pressure, he put it to the highest setting. Within seconds, the water was increasing speed. The water hit his aching shoulders like bullets from a machine gun. Unlike bullets though, it wasn't painful at all. In fact, it was quite soothing. But without expecting it, he could feel his eyes welling up. _This can't be happening _he thought to himself, suddenly feeling slightly afraid. Taking deep breaths, he pressed his forehead to the wall, slowly allowing the tears escape. He was slightly embarrassed about crying, but for an unexplainable reason, he was starting to feel better. Not a whole lot, but it was something. And something was always better than nothing. He made to grab the jutted tile which normally held a bar of soap. But it wasn't there.

"Bloody hell, where is it?" he muttered to himself. He quickly scanned the shower floor, but there was none to be found _Probably someone used the last bar and didn't bother to replace it _Oliver thought. Opening the shower slightly, he picked up his wand and made a bar of it appear. As he began to rub the soap over his hairless pectorals, he felt as if some of his sadness coming on again. It wasn't as if it was solely Harry's fault that they had lost the match. _The Quaffle had gotten by me a few times _Oliver thought glumly_._ Both Alicia and Katie missed some critical shots. Even Fred and George, who were normally great Beaters, hadn't unseated many Hufflepuff players as they normally would've. But if Hufflepuff lost to Ravenclaw by at least 200 points, there still would be a chance for them to advance to the final match. Still brooding about the unknown future, he watched the soap suds snake down his body in a way that would rival a basilisk. After staying in the shower for another twenty minutes or so, Oliver shut off the water.

Wrapping the Gryffindor-colored towel around his waist, he went back into the main part of the locker room. Changing back into the Muggle clothes he wore before the match, he opened the door cautiously. It was still raining, but not even close to the torrential downpour earlier. Oliver sighed loudly, running his fingers through his damp hair. His spirit may have been drenched from the defeat and the rainstorm earlier. But with every rainstorm that came, sunshine would soon follow. And Oliver knew that in time, the sun would dry his dampened spirit and all would be well again.

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**A/N: Please review! I really want to know how I did. Concrit accepted, but flames will be put out with a fire extinguisher.**


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